Birds of a Feather
by Sable Supernova
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles about family, and the trials and tribulations they go through. Every family is, after all, unique. Chapters 3&4: Ron & Hugo and Hermione & Rose.
1. Molly&Fabian: The Note

**Written for:**  
 **Hopscotch:** (location) Hogwarts Library  
 **Speed Drabble:** bang, curtain, cooking  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Fabian Prewett  
 **School of Prompts:** Molly Weasley  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Caligraphy - Write about a note.  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 677\. Smirk  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Fabian Wealsey - Write about Fabian's relationship with Molly.  
 **Words:** 338

* * *

 **The Note**

Molly was sat in the library, leaning over her Charms homework when a loud bang startled her from her work. She looked up at the noise and was less than surprised to see Fabian, her older brother, leaning over her desk with a smirk. She rolled her eyes and looked down to her essay.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Oh, come on, Molls! Is that any way to treat your brother?" he asked, smiling all the while.

"Yes," Molly replied, tonelessly.

Fabian ignored his sister's ignorance and slid into the chair beside her. Seeing that he'd moved closer, Molly looked up at her textbook, to a little slip of paper she'd slid between the pages, and attempted to push it further in, to better hide it, surreptitiously.

"What's this then?" Fabian asked, grabbing the paper before Molly could do anything to stop him. He began to open the note, his back turned to her. "Are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes? draw the curtains? keep me in the dark?"

"Fabian, give it back!" she snapped, anger brewing in her eyes.

"Arthur Weasley, eh? He's in my year," her brother commented. "'work together on that article about muggle cooking'? That's the worst euphemism I've ever heard!"

"It's not a bloody euphemism!" the fifteen year old girl shouted as she snatched the note back off her brother.

"if it was just a note about homework, Molls, you wouldn't have tried to hide it," Fabian observed.

"Well, it's none of your business," she told him, turning away from him and back to her work.

"Fine, whatever. For the record, though, he's a decent bloke. You could do worse," Fabian told her. "Anyway, just wanted to let you know to avoid the second floor this evening."

Molly narrowed her eyebrows for a second before shaking her head. "I'm not even going to ask; I don't want to know what you're up to this time."

Fabian began to walk away, leaving the echo of his laughter at Molly's side.


	2. Lucy&Molly: Little White Lies

**Little White Lies**

Lucy and Molly were sat in their favourite coffee shop, Late Rose Tearooms, staring at a leaflet.

"'A fantastic and fun opportunity to tone your abs and improve overall core strength. Two classes a week throughout July and August. Sixteen years plus,'" Lucy read. "What do you think, Moll?"

"It's a bit much for me," Molly laughed. "But it sounds right up your street. They've got a taster session, look. Give it a go, see if you like it."

Lucy stared her hot chocolate, thinking. "What about dad, though?" she asked. "He'd hate it."

Molly just shrugged. "Don't tell him. Tell him it's aerobics or something; he won't ask. He's not exactly sporty himself. Ignorance is bliss."

"I suppose. I know we do it a lot, but I don't like lying to him," Lucy confessed.

"I know you don't," Molly sighed. "But if you ask me, you need to get over it. We're only getting older, and we're gonna be lying to him until he decides we're adults, which could be a decade away. It's not like we tell him anything dangerous; it's only little white lies that make our lives easier. And anyway, you know I'll support you no matter what. Unless I think it's really dumb, then I'll tell you."

Lucy gave a half smile and looked at the leaflet again. "You know; this really does look interesting. I think I'll give it a shot."

The twins smiled at each other and turned back to their drinks.

Lucy loved it. She walked into the taster session expecting she wouldn't even manage a basic turn, and walked out feeling like she'd just won her team the Quidditch Cup. At the end of the session, she'd signed up to attend all summer, and walked home through the streets of Three Streams Village feeling more than content.

For the first few weeks, the aerobics story worked really well. Their dad didn't ask any questions and life carried on as normal.

It began to unravel at breakfast one morning.

"I thought we could go out as a family today," Percy announced over his toast. "Maybe go for a walk around Red Squirrel Park, have an ice cream."

Lucy swallowed her mouthful of cereal slowly. "Erm, I've got an aerobics class today," she admitted, feeling guilty already. She knew how her dad usually reacted to interruptions to his plan.

"Oh. Never mind then, another day," he said, his shoulders slumping as he paused for a moment. "I just wish we could spend more time together. I wish you girls would talk to us more," he admitted.

It wasn't until the girls were alone that Molly offered her opinion. "He should be careful what he wishes for," she commented. "I'm pretty sure there are things he _doesn't_ want us to tell him."

"Lucy, er, can I talk to you?" her dad asked, looking a little awkward as he stood in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Yeah…" Lucy said, hesitant as she drew the word out. Her father was acting awkward, more awkward than usual, and it put Lucy on edge.

"I was walking down Apple Blossom Avenue the other day, on my way to the shop, and Mrs Fletchley asked about you. She wanted to know how you were getting on with your pole dancing. I wasn't sure what that was, so I asked your mother, and I must say, it doesn't sound promising. She mentioned strip clubs, and things…. It's not true, is it?" he asked.

Lucy was more than a little embarrassed, and very unsure what to do. Not telling him had been one thing, but lying to him when he'd directly asked her would be another matter altogether.

"Yes?" she said, so uncertain of his reaction that it became a question. She watched as her father turned a shade of ghost white. "Except it's nothing to do with strip clubs or any of that, I promise!"

"Well, what is it about? And why didn't you tell me? How long have you been going? Your mother thought you'd been sneaking off to see some boyfriend, and frankly, I don't know which would be worse!" By the end of his sentence, he was a shade of pink.

"It's just exercise, dad! It's in the gym by the park. Look, I'll find you the leaflet," she said, turning to rummage through her drawer beside her bed. "I'm still your daughter, dad. I'm still Lucy. Do you really think the Lucy you know would be interested in strip clubs? What did you think? Oh, by the way Dad, I'm thinking of leaving school, growing a beard and joining the circus," Lucy mocked, her embarrassment turning into frustration at the fact she felt she had to hide it in the first place.

"I think you might struggle with the beard part," he said with a humble smile. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I didn't mean it like that. I was just worried about you."

"Well, you don't need to be. If you did, I'd tell you," Lucy finished.

Her dad sighed and nodded. "Okay."

"You actually told him? Are you mad? Wait, don't answer that, I'm beginning to realise that crazy is genetic," Molly piped, looking at her twin sister with incredulousness.

Lucy smiled. "He already knew; I couldn't not say anything. But it was fine. He understands, I think."

"You mean you're not grounded until you're eighty?" Molly asked.

"Nope. I'm not even banned from ever doing it again."

"Wow. Maybe we're wrong. Maybe we don't have to lie to him about, like, everything," Molly suggested with a thoughtful expression.

* * *

 **Written for:  
Writing Bingo:** Pole Dancing  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days Challenge:** Lucy Weasley  
 **Huge TV Show Quotes Bucket:** I'm thinking of leaving school, growing a beard and joining the circus." – Cassie, Skins. "I'm beginning to realise that crazy is genetic." – Felix, Orphan Black.  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Lucy Weasley – Write about Lucy Weasley  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 328\. Get Over It.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** Colours: Ghost White. Prepositions: Except. Family and Friends Vocab: Twins, Boyfriend. Street/City/Home Names: Three Streams, Apple Blossom Avenue. Communal Locations Prompts: Last Rose Tearoom, Red Squirrel Park. Proverbs: "Ignorance is bliss." "Be careful what you wish for." Once Upon a Time Quotes: "You know I'll support you no matter what. Unless I think it's really dumb, then I'll tell you." – Kristoff. **  
Words:** 933


	3. Ron&Hugo: The Hangover

**Written for:**  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Ron Weasley - Write about Ron Weasley  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Hugo Weasley  
 **Valentine-Making Challenge:** Picnic Basket Sticker - Write about Ron Weasley  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 931\. Concerto for Broken Bottles  
 **Words:** 1458  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** _Underage drinking mentioned but not shown, explicit language, substance abuse mentioned but not shown._

* * *

 **The Hangover**

Having teenage children was never easy, but Ron always thought he'd be able to handle it. He got over it when Rose started to show an interest in boys, short skirts and make up, and her moody phases had lasted two years, but they'd made it through. She was eighteen now, and she'd just landed herself a job, but Hugo… he was another matter altogether.

He was sixteen, and at Hogwarts, and it was hard enough to be a parent for the nine months of the year he wasn't at home, but that summer was worse.

Technically, Hugo was at home, but he wasn't there. He was out with friends, always sleeping over when he could, and barely leaving his room when he wasn't. Hermione was worried, and rightly so. She was certain she'd caught a whiff of alcohol on him more than once, and his coat just stank of cigarette smoke.

She didn't know what to do, but she wanted to do something. She thought that asking him about it would lead to confrontation and make things worse, so she waited for him to come to them, but he didn't seem to want to do that, either.

Eventually, Ron realised it had fallen to him, and with much apprehension, he knocked on Hugo's door one morning. At first, there was no response, but soon enough there was a grunt and movement, and a garbled "Yeah?" shouted out.

Ron let himself in, not fully prepared for the sight that met him. Hugo was still in bed, looking sickly and shiny, recoiling away from the light of the landing. His room was a mess; nothing was in its place and most things were on the floor. Beside his bed was a broken bottle. As Ron opened his mouth to begin to speak, Hugo reached out a hand and turned on the radio. A melancholic classical piece began to play, which normally Hugo would have turned his nose up at, but apparently anything was better than his father's voice now. A concerto for broken bottles, Ron thought, looking at the sorry state of his son. He could smell alcohol, for certain; it was as strong as if Hugo had bathed in paint thinner.

"Hugo, are you alright?" Ron asked, raising his voice over the radio to be hurt.

"No, I'm sick," Hugo replied, his eyes closed.

"Sick and hungover aren't the same thing," Ron reminded his son.

"Yeah they are," Hugo argued. "They both make you feel like you're dying."

"Yeah, but one's your own fault," Ron countered.

Hugo said nothing; he just lay there with his eyes closed, half wrapped in his quilt, not acknowledging the world.

"Hugo, I'm not judging you. I'm not telling you off, or punishing you. You're old enough to make your own life choices. I just want to understand them. We're worried. We just want to make sure you're okay," Ron told him, not sure he quite believed his own words, but thinking they were the right ones to say.

"Did mum tell you to say that?" Hugo asked.

"No. She doesn't even know I'm here," Ron admitted. "Just tell me why."

"Because anything's better than this shithole," Hugo grumbled.

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Okay, sure. What's going on, Hugo?" Ron asked, calmly.

"Nothing, just leave me alone!" Hugo shouted, rolling away from his dad to face the wall. Ron didn't do as his son asked, instead he took a seat at Hugo's desk, staring casually out of the window.

It didn't take long for the silent treatment to work.

"For fuck's sake, dad, get out! What do you want?" Hugo began, sitting up and staring his dad down. "Do you want me sit here and whine like a baby about my life? Is that what you want? Do you wanna know what it feels like to be me? 'Cause it fucking sucks, okay? So leave me alone!" Hugo shouted, startling Ron somewhat with his volume.

"Okay. Fine. If that's what you want. Tell you what, I'll call in sick. I'll give you a couple more hours sleep and make us a fry up. Your mum's already left for work anyway," Ron decided, standing to leave. "I'll bring you up a glass of water."

Ron quietly let himself out, sighing once the door had closed behind him. Hermione had been right, trying to talk to him had only resulted in disaster. To be fair, Ron decided he had chosen a stupid time to try and talk to him, but there was no telling if he'd still be in the house later. He went downstairs and poured out a glass of water, taking it back up to his son's room in silence. He turned the landing light off before opening the door, knowing the light would only make Hugo feel worse. He put the glass down on his bedside table and drew his wand, clearing away the broken bottle with a quick motion, and it was soon as if it'd never been there.

He felt Hugo's eyes on him, he saw confusion there out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he just asked if eleven was alright for food. Hugo nodded, and Ron left.

Ron expected to have to take Hugo's food up at eleven, which he would have done without complaint. Anything to prove to his son that he loved and supported him no matter what. But Hugo surprised him by making his way downstairs, almost fully dressed, with his empty glass. He poured himself out a fresh glass of water from the tap and sat down at the kitchen table as Ron served out, neither of them saying a word.

The whole meal, as a matter of fact, was eaten in silence. Ron was glad to see more colour return to Hugo's cheeks as he ate, and at the end of the meal, Hugo even threw him a, "Thanks, Dad," with a smile.

Ron left him mostly alone for the rest of the day, only bringing him the occasional glass of water and checking there wasn't anything else he wanted. By four o'clock, though, he started thinking about attempting to talk to him again, knowing that Rose and Hermione would both get home from work at some point after five. It was about twenty past four when Ron was about to head upstairs, but he stopped when he heard footsteps heading down. Hugo entered the living room, sitting down on the settee besides his dad, and pretended to be interested in the nature documentary Ron was watching.

"Sorry about this morning," Hugo eventually ventured, but Ron brushed it off.

"Don't worry about it. No one likes mornings," he commented.

"I know I've been difficult this summer, and I'm sorry. I guess I owe you an explanation, and, well, I'd rather talk to you than mum," Hugo explained, and Ron said nothing, only waited.

"There was just a fall out between us Ravenclaw boys around Easter, and I did something kinda stupid. But Matty's older brother took his side, and him and his friends haven't exactly been making my life easy. I started hanging around with Albus and his mates, but I didn't really fit in there, so that was a bit awkward. I started talking to one of the Gryffindor boys in the year above, and he's the one that's been getting me into the parties and everything. But I don't think I really fit in there, either. I think I'm just trying to," Hugo explained, and paused. "I think I need to just own up and and apologise to Matty, try and sort it out. But it's just hard. But I will. I need to."

Ron felt a lot of sympathy for his son, remembering what it was like when his own actions lost him his best friends during the search for the Deathly Hallows, and didn't quite know what to say.

"I'm glad you told me, and I'm proud of you for realising you can do something about it. If you need any help with anything, or any advice, you know where I am. I lost your mum and your Uncle Harry for a few months when I was about your age because of something stupid I did. I know how horrible it feels. Just remember we're on your side, okay?" Ron told him.

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad," Hugo replied, and made to stand. Ron let him leave, realising it was important to Hugo that he had his own space.

As sorry as he felt for Hugo, Ron couldn't help but smile. He'd felt like the worst parent in the world that morning, but maybe he wasn't doing too badly after all.


	4. Hermione&Rose: In Her Daughter's Bedroom

**Written for:**  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Hermione Granger - Write about Hermione Granger  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Rose Weasley  
 **Writing Bingo:** Vibrator  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 731\. Virgin  
 **Valentine-Making Challenge:** Bronze Ribbon: Write about Hermione  
 **Rated:** K+  
 **Warning:** Frank discussions of female masturbation. Non-explicit.  
 **Words:** 1164

* * *

 **In Her Daughter's Bedroom**

Hermione didn't make a habit of cleaning her children's bedrooms for them, but Rose had been so busy with her new job recently, she wanted to do something nice for her daughter.

She folded and hung all her clean washing, stowing it away tidily in her drawers and wardrobe, before picking up all of Rose's dirty laundry and taking it downstairs to the washing machine. She straightened out the things on her dresser, lining up her bottles of perfume and other beauty products. She set about making the bed next, but when she saw what a tangled mess the sheets were in, she sighed. She'd have to take it all off and start again, she decided. Rose must have had a rough night's sleep. She threw the quilt off onto the now clean floor, and reached for the pillow. Hermione lifted the pillow, and froze.

There, in front of her, on her eighteen-year-old daughter's bed, was a long, red vibrator. Hermione knew what it was straight away; she was a muggleborn, after all, and not quite as much the prude as people assumed. All the same, the sight of it made her cheeks turn a shade of pink. "Oh, my," she whispered to herself, before hastily throwing the pillow back down and putting the quilt back where it had been and leaving the room.

It was a Saturday, and Rose was out with friends, but she'd be back for dinner. That left Hermione with a few hours to kill, and her mind kept wandering back to that… thing she'd found.

Her first thought was that her daughter was rather more promiscuous than Hermione would have liked. Women who were aware of their own sexuality, and embraced it - well, they were rather more sexual than the general female population, weren't they?

But no, Hermione decided. She must be wrong. There must be another explanation. This was _Rose_ , for Merlin's sake! Rose, who'd never once brought a boy home - or a girl, for that matter. Rose, who loved to watch the old muggle romance films like _Pride and Prejudice_ or _Wuthering Heights_. She wasn't hanging about seedy nightclubs looking for mates - she stayed in on Saturday nights with a glass of wine, chocolate and a good book.

The last thing Hermione wanted to do was talk to her daughter about it - she couldn't begin to imagine how awkward that conversation would be. But as the day wore on, she grew more and more worked up in trying to understand that she knew she had no other choice.

Rose walked in at about half past five - an hour before dinner, carrying two shopping bags and a big smile.

"Good day?" Hermione asked with a casual smile.

"Yes, it was great! We ran into Dominique - she was on a date with Sam Thomas. She was mortified she'd been seen!" Rose laughed. "Oh, I almost forgot - I got you something," she added, reaching into her bag and groping around for the item. She pulled out a book and handed it over to her mother.

Hermione read the cover. _Generations of Subordination: The history of systemic and institutionalised speciesism within Great Britain's Wizarding Communities in relation to sentient species._ There was a photograph on the cover of a famous meeting that had taken place in the 1950s of The Half-Breeds Society, attended by all manner of creatures including House-Elves, Werewolves, Vampires and Centaurs. Hermione smiled.

"Rose, it's perfect! I forgot this book came out last week! This will really help with SPEW! Oh, did I tell you we were working on a new acronym? We're hoping to include all underprivileged species in our name!" Hermione told her daughter, her eyes bright.

"Yes, you told me yesterday," Rose laughed. "I look forward to hearing it. Should I put the kettle on?"

"Oh, that'd be lovely," Hermione responded. This, she thought, was Rose. Caring, courteous, friendly Rose. A million miles away from the connotations of that thing she'd found beneath her pillow.

"Where's Hugo?" Rose called out from the kitchen. Hermione began to stand and follow her daughter through to the other room.

"He's at the Potter's tonight. Something about Quidditch with Albus," she replied. Ron was out, too, working overtime until midnight. It was just the two of them.

"Oh, we could watch a film!" Rose suggested, realising no one would be around to disturb them. "How about _The Notebook_?"

"Actually, Rose, I need to talk to you," Hermione admitted as she took a seat at the oak table, facing her daughter.

"Yeah? What about?" Rose asked.

"Well, I know you've been busy recently, and I wanted to do something nice for you, so I cleaned your room," Hermione began.

"Yeah," Rose replied, dragging the word out with trepidation as she urged her mother to continue. She was placing the teabags in the cups and reaching for the sugar, her back to Hermione.

"Well, I found something. Under your pillow," Hermione explained. Rose froze.

"Oh," was all she said.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you about it. As an adult. I want to understand," Hermione continued, playing with her cardigan sleeves in nervousness.

"What is there to understand?" Rose asked with an uncomfortable laugh, resuming making the drinks as the kettle began to whistle.

"Well, I just… I guess I didn't think you were, you know, interested in that sort of thing," Hermione beat around the bush to say.

Rose laughed, turning around to face her mother with a warm smile. "What, sex? Mum, everyone's interested in sex. Well, nearly everyone. It's a biological thing. It's normal. It's not wrong or dirty. It's just a thing," Rose tried to explain.

Hermione was quite surprised to hear her daughter say that word as if it was nothing. "But you haven't even had a boyfriend, have you?"

"If you're asking if I'm still a virgin, then yes, I am, although the whole concept of virginity is outdated, if you ask me. But just because I've never been with anyone like that doesn't mean I don't understand the whole concept. Mum, it's not a sin to know your own body. It's a positive thing. It's healthy," Rose told her mother, adamant.

Hermione was still apprehensive, not really understanding.

"Look, mum. I've been on 'that internet thing' and I've read loads of articles about this sort of thing. Let me print some out for you," Rose suggested.

Hermione perked up a little bit at that. Reading. That was something she could do. Maybe it would help her understand.

"Okay, yes. Do that," Hermione confirmed, attempting a smile.

"Mum, I'm still Rose. I'm the same person. I always will be," Rose smiled.

Hermione smiled back, somehow soothed by her daughter's words. She might not understand it all yet, but it was Rose, and if Rose was happy, then Hermione was. And maybe, if she read the articles, she'd have something else she could bond with her daughter over.


	5. Irma&Walburga: Dictator

**Written for:**  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club:** Damocles Rowle – Write about someone who could be seen to be a little too harsh or strict.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Irma Crabbe/Black  
 **If You Dare… Challenge:** 612\. Dictator  
 **Words:** 154

* * *

 **Dictator**

"It's for your own good," the mother said, lips moving quick and tight, eyebrows drawn low and close.

The daughter didn't argue. She didn't cry. She didn't even look up at the woman with doe-eyes. She merely stared blankly ahead, accepting of her fate without a hint of emotion.

"Irma, the girl only wanted something to eat. Children grow; they need energy." The father smiled, gentle and kind, eyes darting between daughter and wife.

"We have meal times for eating. If I let her eat whenever she wanted, she'd grow fat. What in Merlin's name would people think then?"

The father could do nothing. Amongst men he was powerful; he had command and respect. His home was, as home's were, his wife's domain.

He took to carrying sweet treats in his pockets. He'd slip them to his daughter behind his wife's back.

Some rebellions start so small that people hardly notice them at all.


End file.
